


Tending to a Sickly Hobbit

by 1FrozenRutabaga



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author is sick, Gen, Implied Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1FrozenRutabaga/pseuds/1FrozenRutabaga
Summary: Bilbo falls ill in Lake-town after the barrel ride. The Company does their best to take care of him.





	Tending to a Sickly Hobbit

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who wrote chapter one when they should have been resting? 
> 
> I'm sick, so why not write a sic-fic while that's a thing. I don't have the flu, but I have a really bad stomach bug and a nasty cough. Honestly it might be the flu, but fingers crossed that it's not. Anyway, enjoy this garbage chapter I threw up from last night.
> 
> Also I forget everyone's voices. Just bear with me.

Bilbo wasn’t sure where he was at first when he woke up. All he knew was that he was freezing, his body hurt, and that he was going to vomit; right now, actually. He rolled over in time to expel what little food he had gotten in his system. He faintly remember not eating too much the last time he had remembered food. His stomach, already raging, rolled violently again. Bilbo retched again with an ugly burp.

“Ugh…” Bilbo groaned when it was over. He clutched at the bed sheets, quivering. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him before beating him with the bucket while he slept.

He carefully sat up, whining as the room spun. He moved his legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to step in the disgusting puddle. Bilbo stumbled when he got to his feet, his aching bones protesting at his movement. His hands, clammy, were wiped on his shirt. His head was pounding and the faint light made his eyes hurt.

The coolness of the doorknob had Bilbo jolting. He didn’t remember when he had gotten to the door, but he was thankful that he didn’t remember the short journey there. It twisted slowly under his hand.

Ori was standing there with a tray in hand. The dwarf let out a surprised gasp, the tray trembling slightly with him. “Master Baggins!” he squeaked. “You’re awake!”

The young dwarf’s proclamation had Bilbo grabbing at his ears. “Too loud,” he groaned. His own words made his skull shake.

Ori frowned. “Sorry,” he apologized. “You didn’t eat much last night and you’ve been asleep all morning. So I brought you lunch.” He held up the tray. “Are you alright?”

If the vomiting and the achiness weren’t signs that he wasn’t alright, the feeling that the floor was rolling beneath his feet certainly was one. “No,” Bilbo admitted.

His legs gave out a moment later. Ori let out a startled sound, dropping the tray and grabbing the hobbit. Bilbo felt his stomach roll again, and he clenched his jaw to keep himself from vomiting. His fingers weakly clutched at Ori’s shoulders, his body struggling to keep itself up.

“Here, Bilbo,” Ori said, his voice shaky, “let me help you back to bed.”

The trek back was worth it, because his body suddenly felt like it was on fire. The sheets were cool against Bilbo’s feverish skin, making him shudder and whine.

“I’ll get Oin,” Ori told him. He was already jogging out of the room. “Stay here.”

The floorboards being crushed under heavy feet minutes later was more than enough warning for Bilbo to brace himself. He covered his ears as best as he could when Bofur, Nori, Dori, Oin, and Ori flooded into his room. He was thankful that it was just the few of them.

“Bilbo, ye’re ill?” Bofur cried.

“He wasn’t eating much at dinner last night,” Dori pointed out.

“Should I get Thorin?” Nori asked.

Mortification passed through Bilbo. Of all the people to see him like this, Thorin was one he didn’t want.

“Enough, enough!” Oin hollered over everyone. “Somebody clean up the mess. Everyone else needs to give him breathing space.” He pushed through the small crowd and sat on the bed next to Bilbo. “Let me take a look at you, lad. How do you feel?”

"Awful," Bilbo rasped. 

Oin's hand brushed away some sweaty curls stuck to his forehead, settling over the feverish skin. Bilbo sniffed, then coughed when he felt thickness down his throat. Oin's hand moved to his cheek.

"You're burning up," the old dwarf announced. "Someone get a cold rag."

"But I'm freezing," Bilbo protested weakly.

"You're certainly wheezing."

Of all the times for Oin's hearing to short out.

"Ye feel that way because ye're sick," Bofur chimed in. He turned and walked from the room. "I'll get a rag and a bucket."

The bucket sounded extra helpful right now, Bilbo would admit.

"Alright then," Oin said. "Just try and work with me, Master Baggins. I'll do some exercises to see what's going on. You just tell me when something hurts."

The exercises were torture. Bilbo struggled to take in a deep breath without breaking into a fit of coughs, and then broke into fit whenever Oin ordered him to cough into a rag. He whined and groaned whenever his limbs were stretched. He nearly vomited again when Oin put the slightest bit of pressure on his stomach. That bucket was needed very soon.

“Well?” Nori asked whenever Oin sat up. “What’s the matter with him? How bad is it?”

“There’s no blood,” Oin said, turning up the sullied rag. “But that's all we can be thankful for. He’s feverish, vomiting, coughing, and very weak. From what he ate last night, he doesn't have much of an appetite."

“Is it the flu?” Ori piped up from beside Nori. "That's what Men call it, right?"

“Correct, and it sounds like it. He probably caught it in the dungeons, then the river did the rest. With how nasty he feels, we've got some trouble.”

“What’s he need? Whatever it is, we'll get it,” Dori said.

“A bucket of cold water, medicine, broth, and lots of rest.” Oin stood. “I’ve got some on me now, I just need to crush them up. Dori, help me with that. Someone go fetch the rest, and for Mahal’s sake,” he grunted, glaring over Bilbo’s body, “clean up that mess. My hearing’s going, not my smell.”

Nori huffed. “Got it.”

Bofur finally returned, bucket and wet rag in hand. "I'm back." He moved to Bilbo's side, set down the bucket, and then leaned over. "Here ye go."

The rag felt freezing, but strangely good at the same time. Bilbo broke into shivers again, thankful for the blanket that was drawn up over him. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Try and relax while we get the medicine ready," Dori said. "Just don't fall asleep."

"Won't be too hard," the hobbit rasped through chattering teeth.

Bofur gave the smaller hand a gentle pat. “Don’ worry, Bilbo,” he said. “You’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Bilbo really hoped so, because he was already sick of the taste of bile in his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> More to come.


End file.
